


2:14 am

by I_Require_Holy_Water



Series: Lord of the Flies One Shots [1]
Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: 2 am food, Boys Kissing, Kissing, M/M, Out of Character, and the romance, for roger at least, gotta feed the homie, honestly this was based off of a real thing i’ve done, mentioned jack/ralph, minus the kissing, simons needy, they're like friends but in love, who become the boyf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28949079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Require_Holy_Water/pseuds/I_Require_Holy_Water
Summary: Simon’s hungry at 2 am and Roger just so happens to be awake
Relationships: Jack Merridew/Ralph, Roger/Simon (Lord of the Flies)
Series: Lord of the Flies One Shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123289
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	2:14 am

Simon woke up before the sun. His eyelids fluttered open, just to be greeted with the pitch black of the night. It took the boy a minute to process where he even was. His mind was groggy and the only thing on his mind was food. 

Simon turned on his side only to have the blanket surrounding him slide off of his legs and let the cold air send a painful shiver down his spine. His pant leg had rolled up, revealing the thin skin underneath. Simon propped himself up on his elbows, finally realizing this wasn’t his house. He’d slept over at Roger’s with Jack and Ralph, who took the bedroom. Simon’s eyes flickered over to the sleeping figure on the couch. The tan boy was on the floor, but was suddenly thankful because Roger looked so peaceful. He was finally sleeping, a rarity for him. He usually lived off of energy drinks. Simon couldn’t help but think of how at ease the slightly taller boy was. 

“Jesus fuck Si. You’re a creep.” Simon made a noise halfway between a squeal and a whimper as Roger’s eyes flickered open, messed up hair falling into his eyelashes. He raised an eyebrow at Simon, who quickly rolled down the leg of his sweatpants and adjusted the baggy t-shirt Jack had lent him. The boy really hated appearing unorganized in front of people. Simon ran his fingers through his coarse hair, trying to unknot the worst parts. Roger just watched, pushing his weight off of the dusty leather couch. 

“Why’re you up anyways?” The paler boy’s voice was filled with sleep, cracking halfway through his sentence, and then returning to the usual tone he held instead of the deeper version. Before Simon even got a chance to respond, his stomach made a noise, signaling his hunger. The tan boy felt heat rise to his face, praying Roger couldn’t see the blush in the dark. If he could, he didn’t say anything. He just scoffed and made a couple movements, causing the rustling of blankets to fill Simon’s ears. A phone flashlight beamed out of nowhere, the smaller boy’s hands instinctively going over his eyes to block it. His eyes finally adjusted after a couple rough blinks, scanning the room. Roger was pulling a shirt over his head, eyes meeting Simon’s when the fabric wasn’t covering them. 

“C’mon. I’ll make you something.” Simon made a move to object, tell Roger that he was fine and could go back to sleep. However, a quick glare from the raven haired boy shut Simon up quickly. It wasn’t worth the argument with Roger over eating. He was terrifying sometimes, making Simon quite literally shake. This was one of those moments. He just silently followed his friend into the kitchen, taking in as much as he could with a phone flashlight. Roger nodded to the light switch on the left wall. Simon took the hint and flicked it, the backlights of the stove lit up, giving them just enough light to see without the white light of a phone. The tan boy glanced around, looking everywhere but at the other one in the kitchen. It was a beautiful room, the soft yellow glow of lights making it even prettier. Everything was so serene. The old china lined up in one huge cabinet, on display for everyone to see. The bowls stacked in cabinets with glass doors, so you could see how organized the dishes all were. The succulents lining the sink, running into the dish mat where forks laid from last night. Simon glanced over at the stove, bright green numbers flashing the time at him. 2:14 am. He woke Roger up at 2:14 am. He had to be the worst friend in the world. Not to mention how quiet they were being, probably in fear of waking up Ralph and Jack. Simon was forcing Roger to be as silent as possible all because he had a sudden craving in the middle of the night. 

The clattering of a pan made him twist his head over to the boy in question, who made a pained facial expression as a baking sheet fell from a wooden cabinet. Simon knew Jack was a relatively deep sleeper, for lack of a better term. You had to jump on the redhead to wake him up, usually ending in your sudden demise. Unless you were Ralph, but most of the other boys had dismissed that at this point. 

However, Ralph was a fairly light sleeper. Simon had once entered his room, making no noise and the fair boy had woken up. Simon didn’t have it in him to tell Roger he probably just woke Ralph, so he just stifled a laugh as the boy scowled, placing the metal pan back quietly. No noise emitted from the bedroom, so Simon assumed they were on the safe side and avoided waking either boy. 

“I’m just gonna make fucking frozen chicken nuggets and fries. It’s hard to screw them up.” Simon nodded in response. He tried his hardest to avoid meat, eating vegetarian the majority of the time. But it was 2 in the morning and he was so hungry his head was spinning, so any food would do by now. Maybe he’d just eat the fries anyways. 

“Shit. We don’t have fries. Onion rings?” Simon shrugged, sitting down so he didn’t collapse on the floor. His leg bounced up and down uncontrollably as he tried to busy himself with anything but thinking about the hunger clawing away at his stomach. He really should’ve eaten dinner. But he hadn’t been hungry at the time, and Jack could pack away an entire pizza alone. The boys really didn’t need Simon to take any food from them. The beeping of the oven signaled that Roger was preheating it, but it was foggy in Simon’s mind. 

“Hey Rog, can you get me a glass of water?” Simon forced his eyes off of the wooden pattern of the small circular table he was seated at and looked into Roger’s, who narrowed his eyes but nodded. He could tell Roger wanted to ask when the last time he ate was, and if he told him it was 4 pm yesterday the usually unnaturally calm boy would flip his lid. He did it the last time Maurice had gone 5 hours without food. He threatened to force feed the boy if he didn’t go eat immediately. Out of fear, Maurice had gone to the vending machine and bought a bag of pretzels. 

Roger set the sweating glass in front of Simon, sliding into the seat across from him. He looked at the stove as Simon chugged the ice cold water, ignoring the stinging feeling the liquid brought. It helped the burning hunger a little, dousing the fire enough to stop the pain. Simon gently placed the now empty glass in front of him, breathing heavy. That was the first time he’d chugged water in less than 3 minutes. Half of him was impressed, but the more reasonable side of him said that only happened because he was so unnaturally hungry. Roger still hadn’t looked at him, eyes trained on the stove. A part of Simon wanted the boy he considered at least a friend to just glance over and tell him why he was doing this. He didn’t have to and they were both aware of this fact. Roger hadn’t needed to tell Simon he was up, he hadn’t needed to offer to make him food. All of this was unnecessary. And Simon couldn’t help but feel like a burden.

  
  


| | |

  
  


They sat in silence until the food was done, Roger scrambling to turn off the stove before the ear piercing beep went off, waking up the whole neighborhood. As the high noise came from the stove, a muffled rustling sound came from the room directly next to them. One Roger might not have picked up on, as he didn’t stop his movements.

“Rog.” It was a warning, the raven haired boy’s head shooting up at Simon’s tone. He glanced at the door, another soft noise coming from it. The tan boy pressed his lips together, eyes widening what was probably comically in the low lights. Roger didn’t say anything, just kept his gaze even with Simon’s as the sounds disappeared, the door remaining tightly shut. Simon let out his breath, almost collapsing on the table. 

“Okay well… Wait a couple minutes for them to cool.” Roger glances Simon’s way, the tan boy mumbling a ‘thank you’ before leaning against his elbows. 

Time passes horribly slow, Roger setting a plate of onion rings in front of him after what feels like forever. The raven haired boy slides in from across Simon, his own plate of food remaining untouched. He just scrolls through his phone while the other eats, eyes flickering up every once in a while to make sure Simon was still there. At one point, he locks eyes with Simon, but looks away so quickly it could’ve been the tan boy’s imagination. 

“Sooo,” Simon takes a smaller bite out of food, his hunger finally subsiding. Roger raises an eyebrow, locking his phone and setting it to the side. “What do you think Jack did to get Ralph in that room?”

“Probably bribed him. You know Ralph’s a sucker for warmth and Jack’s got plenty of that to go around.” Simon snorts at Roger’s response watching as the pale boy’s eyes crinkle with laughter. A part of Simon wishes Roger was like this around everyone. Joking, at ease. But from what Simon’s seen he only ever seems truly comfortable around the tan boy. Even with Jack and Maurice he's on edge, giving them snippy remarks to dumb comments. It makes Simon wonder if maybe he's… special. In some weird way. Maybe Roger just likes him better because he’s never given the raven haired boy any reason to dislike him. Simon’s always been careful with what he says, trying his hardest to make Roger feel like he could come to Simon for anything. All he can do is hope it worked. 

“Rog. Why're you… Like this,” Simon gestures to the other boy, making him lean forward as if he’s suddenly paying much more attention to the boy’s words, “Around me and not Jack or Maurice? Did I do anything special?” Roger snorts, returning to his previous laid back position. He crosses his arms over his chest, head angled towards the bathroom door. Simon almost wonders if he’s going to make a run for it to avoid the question. 

“I have to mouthwash or something. Wash the taste of food out of my mouth. Can you pack it up?” The shorter boy isn’t even shocked when Roger stands up and leaves him alone in the kitchen. A place that once was cozy and filled with warmth now dark and dreary. Because he was alone. And being alone made him feel so much worse than anything else. 

  
  


/ / /

  
  


Simon finishes packing the food up quickly, in hopes of catching Roger alone in the bathroom, where he couldn’t run. Where he’d have to answer the question. His plan ends up working out, because when he walks into the smaller room, his friend is spitting out Listerine over the sink. 

“Can you… Answer the question?” Roger’s expression changes from curious to defensive then back again. Simon can’t help but wonder if he’s hiding something from the tan boy. Something big that could alter the course of their relationship. Something that could make them even better friends than they already were or rip them apart with no hope of returning. 

“Of course you’re special. You’re Simon Cortés. You’re the boy who looked at someone who was considered a sociopath and chose to be friends with him. You’re the boy who picked to join the choir club because the obnoxious redhead in your 6th grade math class was handing out fliers in a desperate attempt to get the club off its feet. You’re the boy who somehow befriended the schools “Golden Boy” and still made time for the people you met before. You’re the boy who looked at everyone… who looked at me… and saw something nobody else could.” 

“And what is that?” Simon’s voice has dropped to a whisper now, as if any volume above it will crush the moment like a hammer to glass. Roger pushes himself off the granite, slowly walking over to Simon, breath ghosting over the boy’s lips. Simon wets them, pressing his lips together as Roger continues. 

“You saw someone and found the best version of them, underneath all the rubbish.” Simon wets his lips again, even though they really don’t need it. Between how close Roger’s face is and the general atmosphere, Simon can’t tell if Roger is about to kiss him, something he’d never really thought about until now, or leave him standing alone in the bathroom, craving something more. 

“Well… I can only find what’s already there,” Simon gently runs his fingers along Roger’s chest, stopping at his heart and flattening his palm. The pale boy’s heartbeat is so abnormally fast Simon would be concerned if it was other circumstances. Instead, he just looks up into the other boy’s eyes, which have melted like butter, “And sometimes it takes some digging but everyone has some good underneath.” Roger’s breathing stops entirely. The tan boy grows worried that he’s stopped breathing entirely, but the raven haired boy exhales slowly, eyes trained on the shorter one. 

“Can I-”

“Oh God yes.” And their lips connect, sparks finally lighting. Roger tastes of Listerine, making Simon’s mouth prickle but he can’t find room to care in his heart. Their mouths move in sync and both of them release the breath they were holding, finally at ease in each other’s presence. They were so absorbed in memorizing this moment and engraving it in their memories that neither boy heard the door open. 

“Ay yo, what the  _ fuck _ ??” 


End file.
